Burn, Conquer, Kill
by rusted bastard
Summary: A peacekeeper of the afterlife had only one mission: maintain the balance no matter the cost. But the price of that cost bordered too high when it demanded payment in human life.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **

This is something I need to write to get it out of my head before it drives me mad. Partially based on the novel, partially on the games (Orochi Warriors makes a cameo), this is an exploration of what-ifs in the Dynasty/Orochi Warriors universe and a character study on some of my favourite men and their interactions with some of the bizarre circumstances that came about from six years of roleplaying with them. I will be introducing a unique backstory influenced by my roleplaying, as well as some original characters. I will update this when I have time. Follow along at your desire!

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**"Chiu jén chiu tao t'ou; sha jén sha tuan 'hou."**

_ Save thoroughly, if you will;  
__Kill thoroughly, if you kill._

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The weather was the first thing she noticed upon waking—only because it literally hit her in the face.

"What the—goddamn it!" Throwing the tree branch back to the laughing winds in vengeance, it took her several seconds before she realized the hell she had woken up to. The skies had come to life with a monstrous storm: wind screaming through the trees, lightning ricocheting through the sky from one end of the horizon to the other, thunder slamming the earth in ceaseless rhythm, rain sweeping the ground in torrents.

But as monstrous as the storm was, it was nothing compared to what it was birthing. The turbulent red clouds swirled together in faster and more erratic rhythm across the entire horizon, stretching and twisting and knotting together until two distinct shapes rose through their formations. The new shapes were gargantuan in size: each spanned a quarter length of the horizon and she could see their entirety only through her peripherals—focusing on them individually was too much to take in at once.

Eyes. There was a pair of goddamned snake eyes in the sky.

The sight stunned her into statuesque stupidity for a second. The serpentine stare discolored the surrounding sky the same gold as its irises, but it was the slit-like pupils that unnerved her: each a gash of light that seared the sky for a kilometer or more in length, they filled the storm with such brilliance that everything else beneath them faded away. The earth was still hard beneath her feet and grass still whipped her bare legs from the wind, but the blind sensation of these things was all she knew; she could no longer physically see them for those several seconds.

So the world had finally woken to her presence? Three days of hell raising and shit disturbing and general douchebaggery to everyone and everything here just to be noticed, and the bastard acknowledged her only after she fell asleep? Did He consider her less a threat without the reflex of a roused body and mind at her handle? The advantage would always be hers as an emissary of the afterlife—one of the few perks she still enjoyed despite all the emotional baggage that came along.

But did that matter to Him? No. He just wanted his vengeance, and she was here to give it to him.

"Yeah, yeah, I see you, too. Bastard." The wind partially ripped the words from her mouth, but the sentiment survived and she knew it carried to her aggressor through the storm. The response came several seconds later in the distant pounding of hooves and beating drums, the echoing of which resonated from a source still some several kilometers away. The surreal stridence of a thousand voices rose in a outcry just seconds afterwards, filling the storm with the song of his bestial legions and their thirst for war.

He had roused his armies for her. About goddamned time.

The nearby farmhouses made no response to the approaching army over the next hour—or the phenomenon in the sky for that matter, though technically only she could see the latter. The farmers and their families had abandoned the village over a day ago and she had been its sole occupant since.

Was she ready for this fight? Psychologically, yes. Physically? Her long-sleeved business shirt was dirty as hell and threadbare in many places; it had taken the worst of the storms the past couple nights while the black halter beneath it escaped mostly unscathed. Beyond the two shirts and her black underwear, she wore nothing. Though she doubted a half-naked woman would serve as an effective deterrent against an invading army, their ability to treat her seriously as a combatant when she looked like this was questionable.

Damn the Judicature. They had afforded her no chance to change out of her sleepwear before transitioning her here. For the sake of continuity, she should have gotten rid of the modern clothing and found something more suited to the culture of this world the instant she arrived—she'd had three days since, for fuck's sake—but something had held her back.

_The mediators are the ones who have to follow the rules. Not you. Not anymore._

Rolling her eyes at her own stubbornness, she stretched her arms above her head to limber herself out before starting towards the closest farmhouse. The mighty eyes in the sky watched her as she moved, but their presence was little more than scenic to her now: it was His army she needed to worry about. Reaching the door, she tried the handle only to find it latched from the inside. After landing a solid kick to the flimsy wood panel to knock it off its hinges, she waited several seconds for its clattering echo to attract any unwanted attention. When none came, she stepped inside.

The brightly burning lamp on the table in the center of the front room was the first red flag. There had been no light through the windows from the outside.

Her mystical senses pricking, she stepped forward with a ready hand. Though no longer a mediator, she still retained some otherworldly strength—and not the unreliable shit granted under contract by her former employers, either. The mystical advantage of being a mediator also came with the disadvantage of being told how to use all that awesome power. Now that she had been demoted from mediator status, she no longer had that contract. There were still certain rules to follow if she wanted to wander the afterlife freely, but only the mediators really had the strength to wreck a world when they disobeyed those rules.

Another round of shouts rose in the distance, followed by a renewed bout of drumming. The approaching army was rallying. Time to get moving.

Taking a quick survey of the front room, she noticed two additional doorways: one covered by a tattered curtain through which she could see a small space outfitted with a single bench and wash tub, and the other set into the floor on the far side of the room. Taking the more traditionally dangerous of the two first, she went over and hefted up the hatch door. When nothing immediately jumped out and attacked, she peered down into the darkness and found the bottom beyond her range of human sight.

Second red flag. There was no use for a cellar too deep to see the bottom in a rural farmhouse like this.

Keeping in mind the supernatural vigilance of the storm still raging outside, she decided against her first instinct for illuminating the pit and instead resorted to a more human method: the lantern burning on the table behind her. Lifting up the paper apparatus, she checked the measure of oil left in its canister only to discover a roughly handcrafted candle secured into the flimsy wooden interior instead.

Right. This was a world resembling an ancient time period from one of the continents of her own. Oil was reserved for the lanterns of the upper class here.

She took the lantern regardless and returned to the hole in the floor. At least the earth beneath the floorboards was properly boarded off to avoid ground flooding, and the same went for the visible upper portion of the tunnel. If she did eventually venture into down there, the likelihood of it all collapsing in on her in this storm was minimal. Holding the lantern out over the entrance illuminated only a half dozen more feet down the tunnel—still not enough to see the bottom—so she dropped the whole lantern down.

A good thirty seconds later (paper lanterns were damn light), the light finally stopped its descent at about fifty feet. So the farmhouse had a hatch door opening to a deliberately deep, manmade pit? What the hell was down there? Did she even want to know?

Her mystical senses pricking again—this time almost in reprimand—she rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the hole. Normally a descent of this depth required scaling equipment and moderate preparation to avoid serious injury and death, but there was a time and a place for that kind of shit and she had patience for neither. Taking a breath to brace herself, she pushed off the ledge and dropped in.

The landing was shit. Soldier of the afterlife or not, her vessel for this mission was still human in many ways—including the pathetic physical frailty of that former existence. The impact alone fractured dozens of bones in her feet and legs despite the mystical cushioning she provided, and it took a good several seconds of conscious effort to heal the damage before she had chance to straighten up properly examine her surroundings.

When she did, she immediately wished she hadn't.

What she had expected was another tunnel leading further downwards—or maybe a second tunnel deliberately dug out in addition to the first to lead astray the unwary. It would have taken some time to explore them both and she could have wasted her last hour of peacetime with the effort and ideally turned up something—anything—but what she actually found.

What she had not expected was the small room she found herself in now—or with whom she shared it.

The man sat on the only piece of furniture in the room—a rickety, half-rotted chair that looked liable to collapse at any moment—with his head bowed so she could barely see his face. The faint light from the paper lantern by her feet illuminated only the darkness closest to her and so the seated man seemed even more of a specter through the gloom: his mane of unkempt black hair fell over his shoulders and wreathed his face in shadow, and his hunched stance made his body look disproportionate from his head in the darkness.

Then she noticed the chains. At his wrists, around his arms and chest, then at his ankles and around his legs, chains encircled and anchored him to the chair that was itself bolted to a stone plate in the ground. But even stranger than the chains was the item clutched in his one hand.

A small object that glinted an eerie green-blue through the darkness—some kind of precious stone: jade, maybe—bearing a ring of five intricately carved, interlaced dragons.

The sight stopped the breath in her chest. No.

Just now noticing his company at that worst of possible moments, the man on the chair stirred. His movement jerked her from her reverie and she stumbled back against the wall behind her, unable to hide her face or even cover her eyes before he lifted his head. For that second as his eyes locked with hers, the world above them stopped. The storm stopped. The army stopped. The sense of carefree boredom that had possessed her since her arrival here stopped.

As the oldest prince of the kingdom of Wu straightened with visible effort to devote the full of his attention to her, she knew something had gone horribly wrong. The rage of recognition flushed through his face, but it barely diminished him: he was still that great warrior of old, a pillar of strength and dominance even in his bonded plight now. And she had her fool self to thank for that.

"You …" The hatred in his whisper twisted something unwanted deep inside her chest. His chains rattled in his efforts to pull himself off the chair and held him back in spite of his strength. "You of all people, to come back here … how dare you …"

"Look, it wasn't my—"

"I don't care!" His roar was as mighty as ever; the flame in the paper lantern flickered unsteadily behind her in the wake. "If you have any mercy left in that twisted heart of yours, any consideration or kindness or love at all, then you'll do it now—do it like you should have done ages ago!"

She scowled at him, knowing full well the answer already. "Do what, exactly?"

"Kill me."


	2. Chapter 2

For those few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Though noise from the surface was naturally muffled this deep underground, something felt unnatural about the quiet. The silence was too heavy—too forced. But her prince gave her no quarter to deliberate further; her return had roused an old flame and he sought to burn her with it.

"Kill me," he commanded again.

"No."

His eyes narrowed. In the muted lighting, the difference vilified him. "That's an order."

"I don't take orders from you."

He smirked. Before her was not a bedraggled man bound and disgraced, but a soldier, a prince—and a tiger still as wild as the day they first met. The fire in his eye was undeterred, the strength rippling through his muscles unchecked. He was a predator ensnared at the moment, but still powerful inside his cage. She knew what would happen if she freed him from those chains.

"You seem different," she said finally. The sarcasm was a jab at more than his bound state. "What happened to you?"

He shrugged. The motion was nonchalant, as if the heavy chain around his shoulders weighed them down not at all. "I lived. But you should know all about that, right?"

"I saved your life."

"Against my will."

"Then rot down here with your ingratitude. I didn't come back to watch you die." Turning her back to him, she leaned down for the lantern at her feet.

"You would dare leave me here again? Don't you want to know what happened after you left? Who emerged the victor, or what happened to our soldiers? Or even how this—" he jerked the chains for emphasis "—happened to me?"

"I don't care what happened to you. The rest will become known to me as it needs to."

He shook his head with a chuckle. "You haven't changed. Just as stubborn as ever." His gaze lingered on her bare legs for a few seconds before his smirk deepened and he looked back at her face. "And as dead set at not blending in as last time, I see. Did you not attract unwanted attention up there wearing such strange clothes?"

"The only unwanted attention I'm getting is from you. If I don't want people to notice the difference, they don't." Nodding towards the elegantly carved item in his hand, she addressed her qualms with its presence: "What the hell is that doing here?"

"Oh, so I suppose you wanted me to notice then, did you? This—" He juggled the heavy jade seal casually in his hand "—I kept for the memories. And because it was killing my father. And now because it's killing me."

She rolled her eyes and ignored his initial sarcasm. "Only you could say that so casually. I thought your father was dead already."

"He was."

"Past tense?"

His hand visibly tightened around the seal. "Yes."

"And did the seal have something to do with it?" His silence after the question was answer enough. "Great. Did it resurrect anyone else?"

"Besides you?" The fleeting temper after the mention of his father faded slightly as he managed a wry smile at her scowl. "No."

"You really think I count? Why the hell would I sacrifice my resurrection abilities to the seal if I just wanted to waste them reviving myself again?"

"I never knew what went on through your head. For all I know, you intended to work backwards to begin with."

"Shut up. The only one it was meant for was you. Who else did you let it resurrect?"

He only grinned at her. For a second, she saw a flash of his old self: the energetic, young warrior-prince fuelled by the passion of his empire and his dreams for its prosperity and peace. Then the grin twisted back to a smirk, the good-natured amusement back to scorn, and the image faded. But the longing left in its absence burned hotter than the sun. "Set me free. Then I'll tell you."

"Tell me who put you in those chains first."

He settled back into the chair with the posture of a king—never mind acknowledging that his throne was as much a prison as a self-made pedestal. "Not till you free me."

"Then enjoy the rest of eternity with just yourself as company. I can find my answers another way."

"Oh, really? Through what: your magic?"

In an instant, all airs of pleasantry between them vanished. Though she had learned something of self-restraint since her last mission here, even the most trained composure had limits and hers was nowhere near leashed enough to heed its own. "You swore to me you would never call it that again."

"And you swore to me you would see my ambitions fulfilled." His grin took on a crueler edge. "Even if it killed you."

"It did kill me."

"And yet still I live on without a land or people to call my own. It looks like you died a little too soon."

"It is not my job to personally hand feed you every little victory in your hilariously short-lived military campaign here, actually." Her hand twitched with warning as the ringing in her ears deafened her to the frail pleas of her self-control. "Maybe next time I should stand properly back instead of contributing to the idiocy that was your magnificent failure at defending both your beloved land and family against that snake. Or did you forget how many of them fell thanks to—"

Something struck her with the force of a landslide before she could finish the sentence. She hit the wall so hard it cracked the earth itself and fractured every bone along the length of her spine. Vision darkening instantly at the edges, she braced one hand against the wall for balance as the sudden wind in the room roared through her ears.

That … that bastard! What the hell just happened?

Squinting through the darkness—the wind had snuffed the lantern out—she glimpsed a faint glow where she had last seen him. Sure enough, at the center of the otherworldly light gaining greater and greater prominence every second, was the prince—but not as she had left him.

Something was wrong with his chains.

They trembled with a pulse of energy before unraveling from his body in one fluid motion to the floor, squirming there under the radiance of their former prisoner. But their supernatural motion was not so disturbing as was the reaction they triggered: a tightening and almost suffocating pressure on her chest, as if someone had reached inside for her heart and grasped his hand around it and squeezed.

The effect could have killed a normal human. It almost killed her. Being a soldier of the afterlife did not exempt her from death; it just allowed her to tread the boundary without ever crossing completely over. But did that make it hurt any less? Hell no.

Clutching her free hand to her chest as her vision blurred with tears, she pushed herself away from the wall. The wind forced her back a step instantly, but she resisted the worst of it as her injuries healed themselves on instinct. The light threatened to blind her but she squinted against its glare, searching the heart of the brightness for the prince. There he still stood in the center of the radiance, his shoulders hunched and his long black hair whipping wildly about him in the wind.

"You should have freed me yourself."

For that briefest of moments, the resonation of his words bristled the hairs on the back of her neck. Though it was hard to discern for certain, she swore she had heard two voices. The first definitely belonged to the prince; it had been a clearly physical (if barely audible) shout through the gale, bolstered by that otherworldly strength feeding through the chains. But the second voice ... it had been right at her ear, so close she swore lips brushed the skin there with each word.

The familiarity stunned her. Was that … who she thought it was?

"The chains." Again she heard both voices but this time focused on the second one directly, listening to its echo, memorizing the rhythmic waver of every syllable and the lightened contrast in tone from the deeper accent of the prince. "I told you to free me from them yourself. That chance was … all I could give you, you idiot ..."

Barely recognizing the implication in time, she readied herself as the chains at his feet burst alight with flames. The next moment, the entire room lit up with the accompanying inferno.

Her back struck something hard again and the impact shattered her completely; every bone from head to toe fractured in an instant. Being killed once was bad enough—even if the first experience had just bordered the edge of actually ending her life—but two near-death experiences so close together was too goddamned much. The world flashed from white to black to white again before fading into a clouded landscape of nothingness.

And only then in that fleeting moment of transition between life and death did she see him: the owner of the second voice—and her former partner.

He stood in front of her just as she remembered him: the same dirty, scuffed jeans and ratted t-shirt; the same tousled, light brown hair as stubbornly dropped across his eyes as ever; the same devilishly handsome smirk with the half-smoked cigarette hanging loosely between his lips; and the same eyes, a storm of blue and grey and smoldering vibrancy that set her nostalgia afire with longing.

"Hey." That voice of his was still spliced in two, but now his half was stronger: the dry humor and wicked sarcasm she loved so much took the spotlight while the passionate fire and battle lust of the prince faded into the background. He lifted one hand to his mouth and removed the cigarette lazily. "Long time no see, huh?"

True to her nature, she hid the emotion from her expression—though knowing him, he had felt it the instant he arrived here. Reworking her expression into the same cool amusement of his own, she tilted her chin up at him in willing ignorance of his unnatural attunement to her emotions. "You spying on me, little boy?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Not really. Least, I didn't mean to—not that I mind the view." His gaze shamelessly trailed down her body like always, lingering especially on her bare legs before looking back up at her with a laugh. "Actually, I was just about asleep when ..." He gestured with his free hand to the empty gray space around them "... this happened, whatever this is. Not my ideal dream sequence of you. Too many clothes. Miss me or something?"

She smirked at his tone. "Not a chance. I didn't call you here."

"Yeah, I'd have felt it if you did. Well, I'm here, anyway." He took another drag of the cigarette and looked around with mild interest. When the smoke passed his lips this time, the acrid smell stung the back of her own throat and nose. Being close enough to taste that smoke again was good, but not good enough; the next step was those lips. "So, what gives?"

"Good question. I'll let you know when I figure it out." His presence here was indication enough of something amiss, but it was more the timing of his arrival that troubled her than the arrival itself. "Something is up with our link. You think the Judicature had a hand in it?"

As a former mediator himself, Will Bryce possessed the same abilities she did: the ability to cross worlds at his leisure and interact with their inhabitants, the ability to communicate with any other mediators (former or current) within those worlds, and the ability to communicate directly with the organization—the Judicature—they both served. But she and her partner shared something else: a commune unique to the two of them, one that could not be eavesdropped upon by the other mediators or even by their organization.

That link was born from a relationship strong enough to transcend time itself—one that heeded neither life nor death—and thusly ignored the flow of time for the duration of its conversations. But the link rarely activated without their consent. The last time had been a special circumstance: one in which her partner had not been so readily available for conversation then as he was now.

"Maybe." Will cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Why?"

"What was on your mind before you came here? The very last thing." If it correlated to the circumstances with the prince just prior to the chains phenomenon, then it made sense. The prince was only alive because of her partner, after all—because of their similarities.

Will was silent for a long moment, the cigarette stilled between his lips. Then something flashed through his face and he turned his head away with a soft noise of derision. The voiceless response was answer enough. Anything provoking that kind of passivity from him was born of old wounds—ones that she had no desire reliving. To his credit, he respected the bad blood and wasted no breath with excuses. When he looked back at her, the single word response was she needed:

"Her."

With that simple word, the friendly atmosphere between them fractured. Seemingly having completed its purpose, the vision started to disintegrate and she caught a glimpse of Will turning his head away before the image of both him and the greyscale landscape faded from sight. The real world came back into focus a second later, restoring the storm and rainswept landscape and leaving no evidence that her partner had ever stood there at all.

Except that now standing in almost his exact same stance and exhibiting almost his exact same defeated body language was the prince.

The otherworldly light was gone. The chains were gone. The prince had lost what she now realized to be the mystical backing from her partner, and it showed: he barely maintained his balance against the wind and hunched his shoulders against the rain, his body on the brink of collapse. His wet hair shrouded a face so haggard and bruised she barely recognized it, and his clothes were bloodstained and torn.

Had he looked like that before, or had it just been too dark in the room to tell?

Frowning and still reeling from the bitterness left by that last admission from her partner, she looked past the prince at the smoking remains of the hut behind him. The edges of the crater there glowed molten orange in places, hissing whenever the rain dared drown their heat. The combination of smoke and vapor doused the whole village in an eerie haze.

Had the prince caused that by merely breaking free from those chains? What the hell else had she left in that seal to provide him such inhuman strength?

"I tried protecting them." It took her a second to realize the prince had spoken and looked back to see him glaring at the ground. It seemed beyond his ability to maintain his ruse of confidence any longer. "I tried, even after you left, with the gift of life you left me … I tried protecting them. But I failed. I want to make it right, but I just … I don't know how."

Guilt. Reminding him of his failure to protect his homeland during her last mission here while her partner had been reflecting on a similar theme must have triggered the vision. Was this the reason she had been transitioned here? Was this the price she had to repay for stupidly sparing his life because her partner's had been so unfairly taken from her at the time?

"Sun Ce …" Merely saying his name reminded her of everything she had done wrong and she sighed and massaged her temple with two fingers. Being on such personal basis with him had caused this shit to begin with, but she had yet to learn her lesson. Was she still so stupid? "Just … forget it. I was pissed off. All I want to do is see the seal."

The sword edge brushed the side of her throat from behind. "That makes two of us."

Instinct took over. A single instant of motion and their positions were reversed: her assaulter on his knees and her knee on his back, one hand forced down between his shoulder blades and the other yanking his arm up behind his back. When he initially refused to drop his sword, a twist of her hand against his wrist threatened to dislocate his shoulder. He yelped at the treatment and relinquished the weapon.

Then she realized just whom she had accosted—at the same time the prince did.

"Father?" said Sun Ce as she instantly released her hold on the other man and backed off at the recognition. The older warrior said nothing at first and only pushed himself back to his feet, pressing a hand to his shoulder and working it around in its socket several times to properly realign it. Then he reached down and reclaimed his sword before turning around with a hardened expression—one that lightened only marginally at the sight of his son.

"… Ce," said Sun Jian finally. His brilliant white hair still stuck out at all angles despite the rain, and the rest of his darkened features looked as strikingly harsh as ever. Though he and his son shared the same facial characteristics, Sun Jian carried the same shadowed undertones she had seen on Sun Ce before. The influence of the seal had passed along to his father, too? "I'm happy I found you. For awhile there, it seemed like you didn't want to come home."

Sun Ce narrowed his eyes and took a step backwards. The behavior tipped her off instantly. This was what he had meant earlier by the seal trying killing his father: it was burdening the Sun family patriarch with her judicial power as well. Had she really left so much of it behind to steal? "That might be because I don't. I told you not to follow me, father."

Sun Jian laughed. As though cued by his mirth, his soldiers stepped out of the mists from all sides: infantry equipped with spears and swords and numerous units of archers at their back, the sheer number of them tallying well over fifty—maybe even a hundred. The sight stiffened her instantly as she took a wary step back towards Sun Ce. Was this the army she had heard before discovering the prince?

Reminded just then of her earlier aggressor, she glanced to the skies. Now in the absence of the secondary presence from her partner, the gigantic pair of eyes had disappeared—and with them the presence of the powerful mystic they belonged to.

He had seen what He wanted already. Shit.

"Ce, don't do this." Sun Jian stepped forwards with one arm outstretched in a gesture of half-hearted treatise. His smile remained steadfast despite its insincerity, his silhouette towering over his son in spite of the several distance of feet between them. "All we want is for you to come home. You and the seal."

"I told you you're not getting your hands on it." Sun Ce was unarmed and dressed in nothing but a dirtied tunic and pants; his father and the soldiers were in full armor and armed to the goddamned teeth. Yet still he stood his ground—just like her partner would have done in the same situation. Their idiot audacity would kill them both again if she didn't stop it.

"Ce, that seal is the property of the rightful emperor. My duty is to return it to the capital where it belongs." Sun Jian visibly tightened his grip on his sword. His soldiers mimicked his movements; several dozen swords and spears shifted in the grips of their holders as every man settled into the same battle-readied stance of their commander. "This is the last time I'll tell you: don't make this harder than it has to be."

"If you want it, come and claim it off my dead body."

For the love of—what was this sudden animosity between father and son? The Sun family had always stood strong together: Sun Jian the most experienced fighter and the fiercest tiger, and his two sons and daughter his ferocious cubs. But now that bond had been severed, and all because of what? Because that bastard snake wanted the power left in the seal and had started taking minions to get it?

"Actually …" The air hissed with the sound of embers hitting rain as she reformed just in front of the prince; the technique had taken less than half a second to transition her between the two men "... speaking as the one who personally saw the both of you die the last time I was here, believe me when I say this fight can only be won by both of you losing. I can't let that happen yet."

Sun Jian seemed to take notice of her only now that she had directly obstructed his view and shifted his focus fully towards her. His pretended affection towards Sun Ce twisted into something a hell of a lot darker as the presence motivating him recognized her intent to interfere. "And who are you to come between a father and his son?"

"No name worth mentioning, really. Just a reaper back here to reclaim what's rightfully hers."

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**anonia12**: Thank you for the comment. :) Hopefully your questions will be answered as you keep reading, and as well your confusion clarified. I appreciate your reading my first chapter!


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